


Thanks That Was Fun

by Davechicken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Set during season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody knows the deal fell through.<br/>I was hoping I could just blame you.<br/>When was it that I became so soft?</p><p>This sentimentality doesn't look good on me.<br/>I thought that you would be begging to be with me.<br/>I'm the one on my knees, blubbering,<br/>"Please, let me stay..."</p><p>Thanks that was fun.<br/>Don't forget, no regrets ('cept maybe one)<br/>Made a deal, not to feel (god, that was dumb)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks That Was Fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamyourking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamyourking/gifts).



> Thanks to Jade for editing, and Barenaked Ladies for making me an angst-ridden mess.

I didn't expect this, you know. If he asked me, I'd say of course I did. Of course this was my goal. This was my plan all along. You always make them think that their clever ideas are their own when they aren't, because you want them to feel smart and you want them to buy into the illusion that they have control. But what do you do when they spring something on _you_? Well then you insist it was actually your plan, and you're happy that they got with the program.

Yes, I am aware of how duplicitous that sounds. And hypocritical. And downright strange and contradictory. But the fact of the matter is... _people do not often get one over on me_. And I tell myself lies to ease my ego the same as anyone else does, I suppose.

You wouldn't think this would work, would you? He's an angel, and I'm a demon. Demon-King of Hell. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? King. Lord. Highest. Head honcho. One in charge. Big Cheese. I'm all of those things. Every warped soul below obeys my command. Not bad for a punkass crossroads demon, is it? I've used my wits and my charms and succeeded where even Lucifer didn't. And how? How have I got this far? By knowing people. By knowing what makes them tick. By not being too proud to make a deal that is in my favour, no matter who I make it with. By understanding _weakness_ and desire. Everyone has something. Some place you can apply the pressure. Some lie they will swallow, if you stroke their ego the right way. Some good intention you can plant in their mind and when the flower blossoms, the sweet smell of decay will rot and the stench will bring them down into my hands. 

I had thought I had known _his_.

I mean, I offered him _power_. But it wasn't power in and of itself he wanted, and it never had been. Some people like it, but mostly they want the _trappings_ instead. It's not the ability to do things, it's actually the respect that comes with power. But you can't give someone respect, and that was the lie I had sold him. It's fear, when the power isn't wielded correctly. Fear of consequence, not willing obedience.

I should have seen it coming. I flattered him. I told him he was God's Chosen One. I told him he was destined to save Heaven. I told him he could rule. I knew what he really wanted was those blasted Winchesters to look at him with awe. God was gone, and Cas was trying to be the Father he missed.

It's just... that body isn't _him_ , you know? It isn't. For all it's his true vessel blah-blah whatever... even if it's designed to hold him and give voice to his thoughts in a way that doesn't melt the drums in your ears... that's not who Castiel _is_. Underneath that coat and tie, even underneath that (very rugged and attractive) suit of skin and bone was an angel. The Winchesters didn't see it, not any more. They didn't see the way the light of Heaven pooled in his eyes, or the way he _glowed_ from within. It's why he was working with me. He just wanted someone to look on him as he truly was, and he knew if he tried, he'd melt their eyes clean out of their head. _He_ knew. And _they_ had forgotten.

Pathetic, isn't it? That this is all about self-image?

So when we'd kissed to seal our deal, I had thought that was that. It was a nice touch of skin to skin, if awkward and flustered on his side. Not because we both happen to look male (and I _am_ male, even if I can choose to switch if I want to, now. It's how I see myself and that's just the way it is)... because Castiel is one of the Seraphim. And the awkwardness I put down to him not wanting to associate with something as fallen and corrupt as _me_ , instead of anything about our respective interlocking parts.

It didn't hurt, of course. Not one bit. I know who I am. I made my decisions and I live with them. I'm happy. I'm content. I'm me. His judgement of my lifestyle and my personality and my choices didn't stop me wanting to be who I was. 

But then he went and did it again. We were in the middle of one of our... 'strategic planning meetings' (where I told him what I needed, and told him to stop being an ass, and he did the whole 'I am an Angel of the Lord and you are a demon' and so on and so forth) and he surprised me by grabbing hold of my suit. I'll confess, at first I thought he was going to hurt me. He's one of the few beings in existence capable of it, but I kept my calm as much as I could.

And he kissed me instead. I mean, really, _really_ kissed me. Faces smashing, lips squishing, teeth and tongues and growling deep in your throat type kiss. The kind that you do when you really _want_ someone. And it took me off guard enough that I let him push his tongue into my mouth and I let him take control and I just... held onto his wrists and...

... _damn_ but Castiel can kiss. 

Normally I'm in the driving seat, naturally. Normally I set the pace. And if anyone kisses me with that much repressed longing, then it's because I've been leaving a little breadcrumb trail for them and I've welcomed them in. _He_ , however? He just took me by surprise and kicked the wind from my lungs.

Damn, but it felt good.

It went downhill from there, really. When angels fall, they always fall hard. You only have to look at Lucifer to see that. They hold themselves so high and mighty in their ivory, nebulous kingdom and they _all_ sit on a minimum of fifteen sticks at once. Have you ever met one? Have you ever had the misfortune? Pretentious, feathery dicks. All holier-than-thou but they've never had dirt under their fingernails, they've never known grime and pain. Soldiers in high guard-towers, sniping off at the prisoners below. 

I'm not saying Castiel _Fell_ , so much as... what? I don't even know. I'd thought his whole incorporeal self routine would have been enough to keep my ass safe, but either he'd been living in that meatsuit so long it had fogged his mind, or else he was so damned desperate for attention, for someone to _respect_ him, that even something as debased as a warped, twisted ex-soul like me was enough.

I was a fool to let it happen. I know. I really, truly was. But he wanted respect, and he wanted control, and he wanted to believe the lie that he was important and powerful and worthy. Raphael had him _scared_ , and so did God. A God who brought him back to life, but with no explanation. No orders. Castiel was a pawn who had reached the far side of the board by some miracle, and now he had free will to roam, but no King left to protect. The game should have ended, but it hadn't. Now it was a new game, and we were making up the rules without God, without Lucifer. It was anarchy. It was _glorious_.

What was I getting out of this? I could lie and say I was getting what I needed. The more I let him touch me, the more he was under my control. The more he needed me, the safer my position became. The New God. The New Lucifer. You can't have Heaven without Hell. You can't have Good without Evil. I could lie through my teeth and say that this was all because I wanted him to know he could come to me for whatever he needed, and I would provide it. I could claim that I was running the show.

It would all be lies. In truth...

...in truth it... 

He would slam me into a wall and kiss me until my head spun. He would wrap a hand around my throat and pull me up and off my feet so he could better reach my mouth. He would grab my shoulders and push me down - bend me double - and I would scrabble for purchase on a desk, on a gurney... whatever he'd chosen to push me against... I would hold on and choke back the cries as he bit my neck and pushed fingers into me. 

...It felt good. It felt good to be _wanted_. I surrendered my dignity, and I surrendered my pride. His attention was a whirlwind of lust and need, and I mistook it for something else. I bought the lie he offered me, that this was more than just physical desire. I swallowed the deceit down gladly when he ran his hand through my hair, when he glanced a thumb over my cheek to take away salt tears. I surrendered everything, in those moments, and it took me longer after every time to pull my armour back on, to lock it all down and away behind a glib smile or a sharp comment. I was falling. I was falling hard

I was not in control.

This was not the game I set out to play.

I was losing. I was losing everything. There were times I thought that if he asked me for everything - for all the souls, even for Hell itself - I might just have said yes. Terrible moments in dark rooms, with those burning blue eyes that went deeper than mortal flesh. An angel who held my head back and bared my throat and whispered wicked, sinful things against my skin. Who called me names, who insulted my very _being_ , but who couldn't seem to get enough of me.

I knew he could see my true face, the same way I could see the halo around him. I knew he could see my twisted, ugly sides, and I thought... I thought just maybe he could love them, too, because nothing else made sense. Why would he hold me, afterwards? Why would he touch me, if he knew who I was? Why, if he didn't love me back? He had the whole of Creation at his beck and call. Even without the power I had offered him, he could have found a bedmate in any city, in any country, at any time of the day or night. Some of them might even know a lot of the tricks I did. But it was me he came to, it was me he backed into a wall and pressed full-length against. It was I who made his blood boil and it was I who screamed his name.

"You're the bottom," I told him, my lips curling into a sneer and we both knew it wasn't true. 

He didn't have to say anything. He knew it for what it was: baiting. He knew I was trying to provoke a reaction. He knew I was verbally waving my ass in the air and begging him to take it. 

The bolder he got, the more reckless I became. The surer his hands on my hips, the more my mouth ran. The harder his pounding, the louder I screamed to the heavens. I loved it. I loved it too much. I loved being the sole focus of a creature as bright and beautiful and powerful as he was. I loved being _his_.

You have to hand it to him, it was smart. All of it was smart. He was one of God's strategists, after all. He'd had the vision to see beyond scripture and prophecy, he'd been the only one to _really_ make a difference since Lucifer himself. And how fitting a comparison for us both? 

He knew the lie to feed me, and he knew how to sweeten it. He knew how to find the one thing I'd kept jealously locked in my chest. It was only right. It was only fair. I showed him what he wanted, and I gave him the respect he so very badly craved... and he made me love him, and think he loved me back.

I gave him the one thing that mattered the most to me.

It wasn't enough.

Castiel took Purgatory... and he left me with my broken heart.

The worst part was, I couldn't even hate him for it.

I still loved him far too much.

But he was an angel, and I was a demon, and at the end of the day no matter how much I craved his light, he would never share it with me. I was cursed to know what his touch felt like... but I was too broken to be a thing he would want.

Castiel craved the love of someone better than little old me.

I should have seen _that_ coming, too.


End file.
